The Revenge of Seven

The three of us watch in silence as the warship climbs. Before it’s entirely offscreen, the ship’s carapace flickers and the whole thing disappears from view. Well, not entirely – the ship’s outline is still vaguely visible, as if the light around it is bending in strange ways. The distortion is almost like trying to focus on an object that’s underwater.

‘Cloaking,’ Adam says. ‘All of the warships have it.’

‘Hey, look at the tablet,’ Sam says. ‘Maybe everything isn’t totally depressing.’

As the now invisible warship floats upward, one of the dots on the tablet slowly pulls away from the others. Five’s dot. After a few seconds, it begins to flicker erratically across the screen. We’ve now got two Garde indicators bouncing spastically over the map.

‘Just like Ella,’ Sam says, furrowing his brow.

‘The warship must be returning to orbit,’ Adam says. ‘Which means …’

‘Ella is already aboard one of those things,’ I finish the thought. ‘They brought her up to the fleet.’

‘How are we going to get up there?’ Sam asks.

‘We won’t have to,’ Adam responds. ‘The fleet will come to us.’

‘Oh, right,’ Sam says. ‘Worldwide invasion. So we’re planning to just wait for that?’

I tap my finger on the tablet, pointing out the three dots still in Florida. ‘The plan is to get the others. They’re still there. We just have to –’ I stop myself when I look back at the screen. The runway is starting to move. ‘I thought you disabled the ship. Why are they moving?’

With a hurried series of keystrokes, Adam cranes the camera down. From this angle, we can see the crew of Mogadorians grimacing as they push the scout vessel manually towards the hangar.

‘I guess they gave up on getting it started,’ Sam observes.

One of the Mogs runs ahead to slide open the metal doors and there, caught out in the middle of the empty hangar, are Nine, Marina and Six. Sam lets loose an excited shout that he cuts off quickly, the harsh math sinking in, that there are three Garde where there should be four, and that Nine is carrying in his arms what is obviously a body bag.

‘Eight,’ Sam says, swallowing. ‘Shit.’

I turn to Adam, not ready to grieve yet.

‘Does this ship you’ve hacked have any guns?’

14

After a barrage of near-deafening blaster fire in the wide-open space of the hangar, the scout ship goes eerily silent. Marina and I crouch next to each other, both of us huddled behind the flipped-over metal table. We exchange a look – the table didn’t sustain even a single shot of blaster fire. In fact, it doesn’t seem like the ship’s turret came even close to hitting us.

‘Nice aim, dipshit!’ Nine shouts, laughing. He’s off to the side of the table, flat on the ground, half shielding Eight’s body with his own.

I poke my head out from behind the table. Between us and the scout vessel are a dozen piles of ash, formerly the Mogadorian mechanics. The ship’s gun turret is still smoking but hangs dormant now, not the least bit interested in us. Cautiously, I stand up. Marina joins me.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I ask.

‘Who cares?’ Nine says, hefting Eight’s body. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘Perhaps some kind of malfunction?’ Marina proposes, inching closer to the ship, which still blocks our way out. The three of us spread out, making sure not to stand directly in the path of the blaster.

‘It only shot the Mogs,’ I say. ‘That’s one convenient malfunction.’

All three of us jump when the ship’s cockpit opens up with a hydraulic hiss. There’s a burst of static from a speaker in the cockpit, and then a familiar voice rings out.

‘Guys? Can you hear me?’

‘John?’ I exclaim, not believing my ears. The last I saw him, he was in a coma along with Ella. I sprint to the ship and jump on to its front end, standing over the open cockpit to better hear his voice.

‘It’s me, Six,’ John says. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘See me?’ I ask, then notice the small camera mounted over the cockpit entrance. It wiggles back and forth, almost nodding in greeting.

‘Dude, what happened?’ Nine asks, eyeing the cockpit skeptically. ‘Is your brain, like, trapped in a Mogadorian ship now?’

‘What? No, don’t be an idiot,’ John replies, and I can picture the look of annoyed amusement on his face. ‘We’ve taken over a Mogadorian base and used their tech to hack into this ship.’

‘Nice,’ Nine replies, like that’s all he needed to hear. He jumps effortlessly on to the ship’s hood, still holding Eight, and lands right beside me. Our side of the saucer-shaped vessel dips a little at his weight before righting itself, the landing gear whining. Nine kicks the metal hull with his heel, testing it out. ‘So this is our ride?’

In answer, the ship’s engine begins to vibrate beneath our feet. I look down into the cockpit – there are six hard plastic seats in there, along with a blinking dashboard covered in random Mogadorian symbols and a set of controls that look similar to what you’d find on an airplane. Not that I’ve ever flown one of those before, much less one made by Mogadorians.

‘We saw what happened in Chicago,’ Marina says, also climbing on to the ship.

‘Is everyone all right?’